


May The Dread Wolf Take You

by sunwashigh



Series: Prompt Me [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 18th century AU, Alternate Universe - 18th century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ballroom Dancing, F/M, Gen, rococo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4848374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunwashigh/pseuds/sunwashigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>34. meeting at a masquerade ball au for Solavellan</p><p>So this got longer than I was expecting. My inspiration was Marie Antoinette so that’s fun~ Sorry if it gets repetitive. Describing dancing is hard and I was distracted.</p>
    </blockquote>





	May The Dread Wolf Take You

**Author's Note:**

> 34\. meeting at a masquerade ball au for Solavellan
> 
> So this got longer than I was expecting. My inspiration was Marie Antoinette so that’s fun~ Sorry if it gets repetitive. Describing dancing is hard and I was distracted.

She heard the Dread Wolf would be coming. Everywhere his name buzzed, keeping on the lips of those around. He never came out to social events. No one had seen him in many years. Many presumed he died or went away. There was a curiousity about the Dread Wolf. What did he look like? What kept him away from society for so long? Where did he even reside?

Ashalla kept to herself. Tiny and petite, it was easy for her to blend with the background. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her lady had been fussing all day. There was a rumor that he was coming out of hiding to look for a wife. All the noble women then spent the whole day making sure their daughters were the best dressed and the best behaved. Lady Istimaethoriel spent her day however, writing notes for her daughter Ellan to be her best, making Ashalla drop them off. 

She kept her eyes low, entering the lavishly decorated room. “I hope he’s not old. Everyone says he’s so old.” Ellan said, turning to meet her mother’s first. “Are you going to the ball?” Ashalla’s eyes glanced up for a second before returning to the ground quickly. “No, probably not. I have to study.” The daughter huffed, snatching the paper out of her hands. “Of course. Mamae will work you to the bone.” She cackled as Ashalla left.

There was a dark velvet dress, plain except for the gold trim and corset on the First’s bed. A note elegantly written rested on top. 

_“I am feeling terribly ill tonight. Go to the ball with Ellan.”_

The night off, Ashalla thought before her heart skipped beats. She’d never been to a ball. She remembered her jealousy as Ellan would described the dances and balls and the food to her the day after. She hoped that the daughter would be cordial with her. She would try her hardest not to be an embarrassment.

\------

Everyone’s face was covered in the most extravagant masks. Some were painted faces while others were animal masks. Most men took up wearing wolf faces to scare the women and trick others into believing they were the mysterious guest of the night. Ashalla’s mask was golden with black lace and an ornate rose with feathers and more ribbon and lace draping down. Ellan’s complimented it being black with gold accents with a black rose and lace draping the side. The girls kept to each other passing by a group of men, masks of different animals, mostly birds.

“I wouldn’t talk to any man with animal masks.” Ellan whispered. “They’re most likely old and perverted."  
"Good to know.” The girl replied, keeping her eyes forward. A man came up and put his hand on Ellan’s waist.  
“Lady Istimaethoriel.” Her lips formed a big smile.  
“Jean!” She let go of Ashalla’s arm and hooked arms with the young man. He was to court her, Dread Wolf or not.

Ashalla stood there, dumbfounded. “Ah, Ash. Don’t be daft. I’ll be with Jean. Have fun for once.” And the Lady was off. Ashalla watched; they gracefully entered the dance. She tucked her hair behind her ear. 

Never before did the student feel so vulnerable. She did not go under the teaching of Lady Istimaethoriel Lavellan if she knew that she’d be going to balls on her behalf as her daughter’s keeper. She was bad one as well. She was specifically to send her to the Dread Wolf. That was her only objective, but Ellan had her own plans. She sunk into the crowd, finding where they held the drinks. A man stood by, watching. His mask was a thin layer of tulle, matching his dark hair. 

“That’s cheating.” Ashalla whispered as a servant poured her glass of whatever poison they were to give guests. 

“How?” He replied, eyebrow raising. “I can tell who you are.” He smirked. She didn’t know who he was exactly, but she could see his face. He was older than her, but younger than her patron. Though his eyes were obscured by the fabric, she knew they were kind and full of ideas. 

“You don’t know me, da'len.” He replied, his eyes sharp but his smile friendly. He wasn’t from here. No one used that dialect around here unless they wanted to be judged. Ashalla knew that due to Ellan who told her not to be so ‘elfy.’

“Then why don’t you tell me.” She said, sipping the wine. She looked away, hiding a bitter face. She never really liked wine. “Treat me to a dance.” He took the cup from her hands. “If you wish.” She narrowed her eyes. He gave her the choice after taking her drink. “Fine.” She replied, picking up that he was used to being in charge.

He knew she was inexperienced. But compared to him, so was everyone else. She was the first to notice him, even if she didn’t know him. He knew from watching eyes that they looked for some sort of monster. Who called themselves the Dread Wolf anyway? 

She felt eyes burning into her back. Who was she? Who let their servant out? Ellan was busy laughing and entertaining Jean.

Their hands met, his much bigger than hers. She imagined he could hold both of her hands with one hand. They bowed to the beat before moving so one of their hands could touch. His eyes remained focused on hers. She stared at his hair line. He had thick dark hair that was pulled back, but spilled over his shoulders. It was his natural hair, not a wig like everyone else. Ellan kept complaining about her wig. “It’ll fall over I’m sure.” She whined. Ashalla wore her own hair, quickly styled up in a poofed up ponytail with curled ringlets on the side. 

From the playful smirk that still played on his lips, she knew she wouldn’t be able to ask many questions. She had to focus on getting the dancing right. She looked forward, searching for her lady’s daughter as the they turned. But soon he was in front of her, the smirk gone. Their hands crossed and they bowed their knees again. “What’s your name?” He asked, as they stepped closer.

“Ashalla. Ashalla Fellaros.” Her real name. He nodded. “Ashalla Fellaros.” He repeated, looking down at her. Was he really tall or was she just a small woman? They separated again facing opposite directions, the same hands keeping together. “I am Solas.” He replied, eyes forward, but his voice just quiet enough for her to hear. “Solas. Solas what?” She asked, as they bowed in front of each other, their hands to their respective sides. His smirk returned as she danced around him. 

“For later.” He replied, their arms in a curved gesture while they bowed. They circled around, her interest peaking. A normal man would have told her his last name. Last names meant rank and prominence through years of arranged marriages and such. Solas… She thought, staring at him as they stood apart.

They bowed again, their arms curving up. “Why so mysterious?” He chuckled. “Because I can.”

She took his hand, catching the whispers of others. “Who is that man? He’s so handsome. And that girl? His woman no doubt.” She hid her disgust. His woman and his wife meant two different things. She wasn’t his mistress. She barely knew him past his first name. 

Solas… 

She wanted to know more about him, but the song was coming to a close. Their footsteps kept in time. One two three forward, one two three back. “Stop thinking.” He demanded, his voice soft and the playful smile staying. They bowed for a moment before turning and ending the dance with another final one.

Ashalla turned, she should return to her lady. His hand went to her waist and he led her away. “Solas?” She frowned. This was inappropriate, especially if Ellan found out. “You really don’t know.” He laughed as they entered an empty corridor. “Don’t know what?” 

“Who I am." 

She rolled her eyes. At this point, she didn’t really care. He removed her mask with long slender fingers, revealing her tan skin and her dark eyebrows. "Beautiful.” He said, holding her mask. She watched in awe, wondering what he would do. His lips caught hers for a brief moment, pulling away hearing a woman call for Ashalla. Ellan.

“I bid you good night.” The woman stared at him, her eyes dazed before shaking her head. “What? No. Don’t leave.” He smiled, handing her mask back. 

“Fen'Harel ma ghilana, Ashalla Fellaros.” 

Her eyes widened as the Dread Wolf sunk into the shadows. “And so he did…” Ellan came out, her face flushed. “Who was that man you were dancing with?” Her arms locked with the dark haired woman. “I.. I-I don’t know.” Ashalla followed her lady back to the dance floor, shooting a look back to see if she could see him one last time.


End file.
